


Icarus - Borne on Wings of Steel

by Ayankun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Post-Hunt (Supernatural), Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27283495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayankun/pseuds/Ayankun
Summary: Just a good, old-fashioned, by-the-numbers, post-hunt Winchester moment.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 4





	Icarus - Borne on Wings of Steel

"Sonovabitch," Dean slurs dispassionately, slumping into the Impala behind the wheel. He grimaces, shifts to dislodge the lamb's-blood-soaked-stake from the back of his pants, chucks it over his shoulder into the backseat.

On the passenger's side, Sam ducks into his seat, manages somehow to not account properly for the necessary headroom even though he's done this literally thousands of times, clips his ear pretty solidly against the top of the door frame.

Dean watches his baby brother fold his giant's body the rest of the way into the car, thinks about ribbing him for banging his head like a rank amateur, decides not to at the last second.

Sam doesn't even seem to know he's done it. Dean gets it. His own ears are still ringing, hollow empty white noise stomping around inside his melon, a parting gift from the dusty, expired deity who expressed its righteous anger the same way they always do, by throwing folks headfirst into solid objects.

Comes with the territory. Anyway there's something to be said for a good, old-fashioned, by-the-numbers bust-em-up. So what if your brain-pan's gone a little mushy, when, at the end of the day, the bad guys die the same way they always do.

"Hubris," Dean grunts. He twists, props his arm over the top of the wheel, throws Sam a knowing look that's returned with the kind of weariness that's tight around the eyes. His bottom lip pulls down, his shoulders jerk in a twitchy little shrug. "Grade-A assholes like that lookin' down on us just 'cause they know a little magic and had a buffet-style fan club a million years ago? Don't see all that stopping a bit of wood shoved through the heart from doing the job."

Sam blinks at him, bites back a yawn. There's a freely-bleeding gash across his left cheek, just under the eye, but he absently lifts his hand to rub at the side of his head like he's only just, but not quite, noticed his slipshod entry.

"Hubris," Sam echoes tonelessly. He scratches his fingers through his hair, pushes it back behind his bruised-pink ear, hangs his hand heavily on the back of his neck. He's facing Dean but his eyes are mostly closed. He's already checked out for the night.

Dean nods. "Yeah, man. They deserve guys like us to come around and knock 'em down a peg. Serves the ol' windbags right, y'know?" He mimes the sharp motion of staking something, clicks his tongue for added effect, wags his eyebrows at Sam for comment on his midnight epiphany.

"Who taught you that word," Sam frowns, turns away to cuddle up against the Impala's unforgiving frame, doesn't wait for an answer.

Dean's jaw sets with an audible click. 

"No blood on the upholstery," he bites out a reminder that Sam ignores, jams the key in the ignition and hits the pedal so hard the Impala fishtails a bit on the gravel of the backcountry road, engine growling, before she bites in and roars off like a predator of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> All I can say is I just rewatched Baby and felt compelled to commemorate, at least in some small way, the Holy Winchester Trinity.


End file.
